In Due Time
by SiriusFan13
Summary: During a peaceful afternoon in Kyoto, Kenshin is pulled into the life of a young boy named Miki... a situation that may be more than Kenshin had bargained for... Please read and review!
1. Voices from Nowhere

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing Ruroken (as usual). I hope you enjoy my dabbling in Watsuki-san's excellent universe, though...

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**In Due Time**

Kenshin sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, and feeling the warm breeze finger through his flame-colored hair. He tilted his head back to allow the late summer sun to reach his face, illuminating it, erasing the darkness. He had no need for shadows anymore. And even if it was a bit too naïve even for him, it was nice to think that his demons could be banished so easily, just by bathing himself in the light.

Two years ago, he would never have dreamed that Kyoto could be a place of such peace for him. But for the first time in ages, he was starting to feel like he could be free, even here. Free from the labels he'd placed on himself, and the judgment of the outside world. He had Kaoru, now. And Sano, Yahiko, Megumi-dono... Misao and the Oniwaban... He was no longer alone. They had helped to heal him, but it wasn't only that. The fact that his past hadn't destroyed his ability to _make_ friends was equally important. People would still come to him. He wasn't so lost that others sensed the blood on him and kept away.

The redhead opened his eyes and stared out over the impressive view from the top of the waterfall, smiling a little. Soon he would have to go back down to visit his shishou as he'd promised. But he'd wait a little while longer. No reason to destroy the peace of the day any sooner than he had to.

He watched the heat ripple off of the trees, giving everything an otherworldly feel. It hadn't been this hot in Kyoto in a very long time. Longer that even _he_ could remember, honestly. Kenshin relaxed. It was so quiet. So peaceful. His eyes drifted shut just as he heard a shout.

"Get away from me!"

The rurouni's eyes snapped open, looking for the source of the voice.

"I'm warning you! Step away!"

It sounded like a young boy, and he wasn't far.

Kenshin was on his feet in moments, running to the trees in the direction of the voice. He broke through into a small clearing only to find it empty. All was still. Even the ground hadn't been disturbed. Kenshin dropped his hand from the hilt of his sakabatou. _What was going on?_ This didn't make any sense at all. He was certain that this was where the voice had been coming from.

He circled the clearing. Nothing. Kenshin's brow furrowed as he leaned up against one of the trees, trying to think.

As his eyes scanned the small, wooded area, a mark on one of the trees caught his eye. Kenshin walked over and knelt beside it, running his hand along the trunk. Cuts from a sword. But they were old and had been here a long time. Probably years. He glanced around. A few other trees had similar cuts.

Suddenly, there was an angry shout followed by the sound of footsteps and the cracking of branches suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

"Kuso!" the voice swore. "Get that little bastard! He's going to pay for that!" It was a man's voice this time.

Kenshin took off without a thought. He could wonder about the clearing later. It sounded like that boy was in trouble.

The forest was thick here, and Kenshin had a hard time breaking through the undergrowth. _"What is going on here?"_ he thought. _"This isn't right. A path should have been partially cleared by those people..."_

He broke through the last branches only to find that his path ended abruptly at a cliff's edge. Kenshin skidded to a stop, catching himself on a post of wood before he could fall. The loose earth beneath his feet shifted and Kenshin backed up a step. There had been a bridge here once, although it was long gone now.

The redhead looked around, starting to feel chilled despite the hot summer air. Something was definitely not right. Voices from no one. Footsteps leading nowhere. Kenshin had never been one to be afraid of ghosts and spirits. He'd seen to many real horrors for that. But this was starting to be too much even for him. He looked back toward the forest behind him, as though he'd find an explanation there.

"Got you now, kid. How good are you at bridge fighting?"

Kenshin's lavender eyes widened as he turned back to the empty gap where the man's voice had come from. "It's not possible," he whispered. But even as he was standing there, he could hear the clash of metal against metal. A boy crying out and a man laughing.

"Is anyone there?" Kenshin called.

The sounds stopped immediately, and all he could hear in the crashing silence was his own echo.

Kenshin shook his head and took a wary step backwards, still straining his eyes to pick up what his ears had sensed. He didn't noticed the ground at the edge of the cliff shift again until rocks and soil began sliding out from beneath his feet.

Kenshin tried to jump away, but it was too sudden, even with his speed, and he slipped, falling from the cliff edge to the rocks below.

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_Author's note: Okay, before anyone says anything, I _know_ that this isn't "Out of Time" nor is it "A Wolf in Officer's Clothing," the two Kenshin fics that I promised to finish before I started another serious one. So, here is my explanation. First of all, this is not taking the place of either of those stories. I was really stressed this week, and I found that this idea, once it dug into my mind, was really easy to write and managed to relax me. It's just a fun story. I'm not sure that _I'm_ even taking it seriously yet. So, chapters will be short. Updates may be sporadic (because my other stories come first). But hopefully this story will be fun. It does _not_ take place in the "Out of Time" universe, although I guess this is sort of an alternate universe thing... (shrugs) Anyway, please review. I'm sorry if this sounds rough and kind of shoddy compared to my other fics. I'll try to improve it... but honestly... chapters are likely to remain short... Okay?_

_Thanks for reading, and please review. "Out of Time" should be updated within the week!_

_Dewa Mata!_


	2. Lost and Found

**In Due Time**

The first thing he was aware of was a throbbing pain in his head drowning out several other smaller, but still insistent pains throughout his body. Kenshin didn't move for a moment, just trying to assess the damage. He knew that his hands would be scraped up pretty badly. He'd managed to break some of his fall by grabbing at plants sticking out of the cliff's edge. And he was sure he had a lump on the head. He had, after all, been knocked unconscious when he'd hit the ground.

He tested a few of his limbs. Nothing felt broken. He was lucky that the cliff was on a slope, steep though it was.

"Hey, you're finally waking up!" a nearby voice suddenly piped up, startling the redhead. It sounded like the boy he'd heard earlier.

Kenshin's eyes snapped open and he sat up, instantly regretting it. His head felt like it was going to explode. Kenshin slumped forward a bit, holding his head and now feeling the knot forming there. "Oro..." he moaned softly.

"I kind of thought you were dead," the boy continued.

Kenshin slowly opened his eyes again and looked at the youth who was kneeling beside him. He was a tall boy. Maybe ten or twelve years old, with dark eyes and black hair pulled back into a short ponytail. The boy wore a simple gray hakama and a green gi. Something about him reminded Kenshin a bit of Yahiko.

The rurouni managed a weak smile. "No. Not dead. I'm just sore, that I am." He sent a concerned look at the boy. "Are _you_ alright, though? I heard you cry out for help earlier."

The boy's eyes widened, and he snapped indignantly, "I wouldn't cry out! I'm a swordsman. I'd fight and die before I'd do something so cowardly." He scowled. "I'll have you know that my father was a samurai."

Kenshin's smile grew. This boy was exactly like Yahiko, actually. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to insult you, that I did not. But if it wasn't you, then who? He sounded like he was in trouble..." Kenshin trailed off.

The boy shrugged, not looking particularly concerned. "I didn't hear anything, so he must be gone by now." He watched Kenshin painfully move to get up. "Do you need help standing?"

Kenshin shook his head. "No, thank you," he replied, slowly rising to his feet. He brushed off his hakama. "I think I'll be-" His eyes widened as his hand brushed where the sakabatou should have been. "My sword!"

The boy's interest perked up. "You're a swordsman, then?"

"Yes," Kenshin murmured, distractedly, looking around. _Where was it? It had to be nearby. If he lost this one, he may never be able to get another sakabatou made to replace it._

The boy scanned the area as well. "Ah!" he suddenly cried, running toward the river where something was glinting in the fading sunlight. He retrieved the item, and hurried back. "Is this it?" he asked, handing Kenshin the sheathed weapon.

The sheath was scratched and damaged from the fall, worrying Kenshin more. He slid the sword out, revealing the reverse blade in perfect shape, to his relief. "This is mine, that it is," he replied softly. "Thank you for finding it. You have very good eyes."

The boy was just staring at the sword as Kenshin sheathed it and hung it at his waist. "What _is_ that?" he finally asked. "It was backwards. What good is a backwards sword?"

"It's called 'sakabatou,'" Kenshin replied calmly. "It's all I need."

The boy shrugged, looking incredulous. "Whatever you say, swordsman." He picked up his load of rice and jug of sake that he'd set down nearby. "I need to be getting this stuff home, or I'm going to be in trouble." He sent Kenshin an assessing look. This short redhead with the useless sword. "Do you live around here, swordsman?" he asked.

Kenshin blinked at him, startled. "Oro? No. Actually, I was planning on visiting some friends..."

The boy nodded. "I figured as much. I've never seen you before." He looked toward the gold disk of the sun, sinking behind the horizon. "It's kind of late to go visiting, isn't it? And these roads aren't safe when the sun sets. Not with all of the bandits that wander around Kyoto at night. Maybe you should come with me. We don't have much room. But if it's only for one night..."

"Thank you," Kenshin said, smiling. "But I don't want to inconvenience your family..."

The boy grinned. "Don't worry about it. There's just the two of us, and the old man may be cranky, but he won't turn away a traveler." The boy began walking toward a worn path. "Come on swordsman. We'll be safest going this way. And I have a proper katana, so I can protect us on the road."

"Thank you," Kenshin said again, joining him. He eyed the boy's heavy load. "If you're offering me both boarding and protection, then at least let me carry something."

He didn't have to ask twice. The boy immediately handed him the jug of sake. "Here. I don't think you're in any shape to carry the rice."

They walked the path in silence awhile, both lost in their own thoughts. Kenshin periodically glanced at the boy beside him. Even at his age, he was nearly Kenshin's height. Not that such a thing was much of a feat. But the boy would make a fine swordsman someday. He already had a strong ki and lots of pride. He carried himself well. And most importantly, he was caring in his own way. Concerned enough about other people to help an injured stranger he'd found near the road.

"So, swordsman," the youth said, breaking the silence, "do you have a name?"

Kenshin hesitated uncomfortably. What to say? They were so near Kyoto. Even now, the name Himura Kenshin would be too easily associated with hitokiri Battousai. He didn't want this youth to know him as an assassin, and spend the night worrying about his own safety and that of the old man he lived with.

"Swordsman?"

Kenshin smiled at him, making his decision. "I am Rurouni," he said softly. "Just a wanderer. I have no use for a name here."

The boy stopped in his tracks, staring at the strange redhead. "Rurouni? Is that what I'm supposed to call you? That's no better than 'swordsman.' I can't even show you proper respect. What am I to call you? Rurouni-san?"

Kenshin laughed a little. The boy looked positively indignant. "'Rurouni' will be fine," he insisted. "I don't need an honorific."

The youth's eyebrows furrowed as he glared at his companion, clearly unhappy with this situation. "Alright, fine, Rurouni. If I'm to just call you that, then you don't need to know my full name. You can call me Miki. Just Miki."

Kenshin bit back his laughter at the boy's stubborn irritation. Somehow knowing that it would only aggravate the situation. "Miki, then. That's a nice name."

"Whatever," Miki grumbled, shifting the weight of the rice. He began walking again. "We're almost home. Just through these trees."

Kenshin looked where Miki was pointing, suddenly realizing where he was.

"Come on," the boy said.

Kenshin stepped into the clearing and froze at the sight of the small shack. "You live... here?"

"Yeah," I know it's not much..."

Kenshin shook his head and didn't move. "Miki," he choked out. "Are you telling me that you live with Hiko Seijuro?"

The youth looked at him with some increased interest. "Yeah, why? Do you know my shishou?"

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_Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the great reviews! I appreciate it. "Out of Time" will hopefully be updated soon! Thanks to all of you!_

_ Dewa mata!  
_


	3. By Any Other Name

**In Due Time**

Kenshin had been stunned into silence. His shishou? Did that mean that Hiko had finally given up on Kenshin and taken a new apprentice? He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Rurouni?"

Kenshin was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Miki's voice. "I'm sorry, that I am. Let us find your shishou. I'd like to speak with him."

Miki smirked. "He's probably inside. Come on."

Kenshin followed the youth to the doorway.

"Shishou, we have a guest. A rurouni," Miki announced, slipping inside.

The eerie feeling that had been prickling at Kenshin's mind intensified when he stepped into the shack. The shelves of pottery were gone, replaced by a few katanas and a large blade that Kenshin knew as "Winter Moon," an heirloom of Hiten Mitsurugi. And in the middle of the small room sat the man Miki had called "shishou." The old man was wrapped in a heavy white cape, his long, silver hair shining in the dull light of the lantern.

This man, who clearly couldn't be the Hiko Seijuro that Kenshin knew, looked up at them from his sake cup. He raised an eyebrow at the boy before turning to Kenshin. "Rurouni, is it? And how is it that one such as yourself has found himself in the company of my baka deshi?"

"Shishou!" Miki's face was red.

Kenshin managed a polite, very weak smile. "Your deshi found me after I'd injured myself in an accident, that he did... sir."

The older man looked interested, his bright eyes twinkling. "So, to pay him back, you protected him on the road?"

"Shishou," Miki ranted, growing both embarrassed and irritated. "I was protecting _him_."

"With his ki?" the man asked, silencing the boy. "I strongly suspect that your rurouni could have taken care of himself quite easily. I haven't felt such ki in awhile." He turned back to Kenshin. "You have the feel of one who has killed many. Perhaps... too many."

"What?" Miki's eyes widened as he turned to the small man beside him. "Rurouni?"

Kenshin expression was dark, his narrowed eyes in shadow. "That is long past, sir. I live in the present now." He hesitated, again looking at the old man before him. "Or at least, I _did_."

The man's eyes darkened. "Miki," he said suddenly. "Go fetch some water for our guest."

"But Shishou-"

The man's glare silenced him. "You invited him, baka. It's your responsibility to treat him well. Especially someone of his caliber."

Again, the boy was taken by surprise by his shishou's respect for this simple rurouni.

"Baka..." There was a warning quality to his voice now.

"I'm going," Miki grumbled, grabbing a pail.

"Take your katana, and keep your eyes open."

"I _know_, Shishou," the boy snapped, stomping out of the shack.

Kenshin watched the boy leave, starting to feel overwhelmed.

"He's a good boy," the man said with a small smile. "Stubborn, and difficult to deal with at times, but good at heart." He turned his attention back to Kenshin. "Sit," the older man gently commanded. "Share some sake with me, and we'll talk."

The redhead sat, accepting the sake cup.

"You aren't from around here, Rurouni, are you?"

"No," Kenshin replied, "that I most certainly am not." He paused. "This place... I... You are Hiko Seijuro, then?" Kenshin finished weakly.

The older man smiled. "Yes. You may call me Hiko-sama. Everyone else here does, except my baka deshi, of course." The old man leaned forward a bit. "But you were expecting someone else, weren't you?"

Kenshin sighed. "Yes. I was. I..." He looked around again. "I grew up here," he said softly. "As a youth. I was trained by _my_ shishou in Hiten Mitsurugi at this very spot."

The old man leaned back. "Really?" he asked, not looking particularly surprised. "And when would that have been?"

Kenshin paused to think. "Almost twenty years ago, Hiko-sama."

"That's interesting," the old man replied. "It puts us at quite a dilemma, considering the fact that I have lived here for nearly forty years, myself."

"Oro..." Kenshin moaned. "I was afraid you were going to say something like that."

The older man laughed. "Then we're even, Rurouni. I got the sense that you were studied in Hiten Mitsurugi when you approached. I could feel it in your ki, even though it was impossible."

He sipped at his sake, while Kenshin just downed the whole cup. Hiko-sama poured him some more. "So," he said. "What options does this leave us with?"

Kenshin blinked up at him. "This leaves us with options, Hiko-sama?"

"You've either traveled forward or backward in time, haven't you?"

Kenshin began he second cup, taking it as quickly as the first. "I don't like these options, Hiko-sama, that I do not."

"Rurouni..."

"My name is Himura Kenshin, Hiko-sama. Once known as Battousai," the redhead said suddenly. "Do either of those names mean anything to you?"

Something flickered in the old man's eyes before he shook his head, and replied, "I don't know you, Kenshin."

"I've probably traveled backwards in time, then," Kenshin mumured. "I expected as much. I can't see my shishou taking another deshi."

"Too old?"

Kenshin smiled at the thought of Hiko ever being too old train. "No. Just too stubborn."

"Ah."

Kenshin sent the man a sharp look. "We could solve this quickly, Hiko-sama," he said. "What year am I in?"

The older man took a drink of his sake and shook his head gravely. "I don't think discussing that would be a good idea. You may feel the need to... change things... Just as I would if I knew what year you were from. The temptation is too great."

Kenshin sighed. "I understand, Hiko-sama. I'm just worried. I don't know how I got here. I don't even know when 'here' is. How do I try to go home?"

The old man smiled. "I wouldn't worry about it, Kenshin. Did you _try_ to come here?"

"No."

"Then what makes you think you need to _try _to return?"

"I don't know," Kenshin said, dropping his head. "Oro... I don't like this, that I do not."

Hiko-sama smirked at him. "Just relax, Kenshin. You can stay here until things work themselves out." He looked past the rurouni toward the door. "Isn't that right, Miki?"

Kenshin turned suddenly, surprised to see that the boy had already returned.

Miki stood in the doorway, watching them with interest.

Hiko-sama stood slowly, stretching a bit. "I'm going out for a walk. Baka deshi, our guest is your responsibility. Make him comfortable."

"But shishou-"

"Hiko-sama!"

But the man had already brushed by them and had left the shack.

Kenshin and Miki looked at each other awkwardly.

"I'll get you a futon," the boy said. "You can use mine."

"I can't take yours, Miki."

The boy sent him a sharp look. "Just take it. I'm offering it to you, okay?" Miko turned his back on the rurouni and went to get the futon. He went about his business in silence. "So," he finally said tentatively, "your name's Kenshin, huh?"

"Wha-?"

"I caught the end of your conversation with Shishou," he said, turning to look at Kenshin. "Don't worry... if it was private or something. I just heard that you're staying here, and I heard him call you Kenshin. That's all." He grabbed the futon. "Is that your real name?"

The redhead gave him a quizzical look. "Why do you ask that?"

Miki shrugged. "You don't like a 'Kenshin,' I guess. So, I thought maybe you took that name when you became a swordsman." He began laying the futon out. "My brother's name was Kenshin. He was born as Masakazu, but my father renamed him when he was old enough to train with a sword. I would have been renamed, too, but I figure I'll be taking the name Hiko Seijuro eventually, so I'm not worried about it."

"About what?" Kenshin asked.

Miki looked up. "About my dad dying before he could rename and train me." He shrugged. "It isn't a big deal to me. A name's a name, right? It doesn't change who you are or anything. My brother was just as much a baka as Himura Masakazu as he was when he took the name Himura Kenshin."

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_Author's Note: Thanks again for reading and reviewing this strange plotbunny that has taken residence in my head..._

_Thanks to all reviewers for taking the time to drop me a note! I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_Dewa mata!  
_


	4. Sparring Match

**In Due Time**

_It was sunset, and Kenshin found himself standing before three rough stones amidst a field of crosses._

_"What is your name, boy?" the tall, solemn man beside him asked._

_"Shinta."_

_"A child's name," the man scorned. "Too soft for a swordsman. From now on you are Kenshin."_

_"Ken... shin?"_

_The tall man turned his dark eyes to the boy in front of him. There was a power in those eyes. So dark and lost... but at the same time, there was a spark of something deep within them, fighting to survive. "I am Hiko Seijuro. Learn the name of your new shishou..."_

_And weeks later, in a small shack, the powerful man handing him a blade. "For your training."_

_Kenshin politely refused the sword. "But Shishou... I'm not allowed to carry a katana. My father was only a farmer. I don't even have a surname.__"_

_His shishou smirked. "You are not to be judged by your lineage here. Names don't matter to me. In this place, no such rules exist. You are a swordsman here." Hiko sighed, looking tired. "But I'm no idealist. It will matter to those bakas whom you'll meet in the real world, won't it?"_

_Kenshin didn't answer. This was it. What he'd been waiting for. The moment when Hiko changed his mind and realized how foolish an idea it had been to take this boy as an apprentice._

_"So," the man continued quietly, taking the youth by surprise, "it is just as with the name 'Shinta.' You shall be renamed, to fit the idiotic ideals of this decaying world." That soft darkness was in his eyes again. "This is your first lesson, Kenshin. Choose your battles. Because there are some things, like this, that aren't worth fighting." Hiko paused, thoughtfully. "Himura," he said suddenly, as though an idea had just struck him. "You will be Himura. Tbat is a good name for you."_

_Kenshin was surprised to see one of the rare moments when his shishou had smiled at him. The powerful man once again offered the blade to his deshi. "Now, take your sword... Himura Kenshin."

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_

Kenshin's eyes snapped open as he awoke from the dream. He looked around the room. Sun already streamed into the small shack. Both Hiko-sama and Miki were already up and going about their business.

Kenshin stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to sort through his turbulent thoughts over the dull throbbing in his head. _Was it possible?_ He closed his eyes and frowned, before finally getting up. He'd been asleep too long. Kenshin quickly rolled up the futon and slipped his gi on. He ran his fingers through his long, red hair before tying it back out of his face. He then made his way out of the shack and into the hot summer sunlight.

Hiko-sama sat on an old log, watching his deshi practice. When he noticed Kenshin hovering in the doorway, he motioned for the rurouni to join him. "Did you sleep well, Kenshin?" he asked.

Kenshin sat, smiling. "Well enough, Hiko-sama. I wish you had woken me up. I'd have helped with some chores."

The old man smiled. "That's what I have Miki for. Anyway, you needed to rest. You looked like you were having some active dreams." He turned away from Kenshin to criticize Miki's swing.

Kenshin watched the frustrated boy wipe the sweat from his brow, his dark eyes flashing occasionally with annoyance as his shishou spoke.

"_Himura Miki... Was it possible?" _he wondered, thinking back to his dream. He tried to picture this boy taller, more powerful. With long black hair sweeping over a red and white cloak.

Kenshin shook his head. He couldn't do it. He couldn't see his own shishou in this boy. A coincidence, then?

Not likely.

But still... no less likely than this child being his Shishou.

"Kenshin." Hiko-sama's voice startled Kenshin from his thoughts.

"Yes, Hiko-sama?" he asked, looked back at the older man beside him.

Hiko-sama smirked. "Would you do me a favor?"

Kenshin didn't answer, a bit worried about this favor. He looked at Miki, who didn't seem any happier with things.

Hiko-sama appeared to be unconcerned. "My baka deshi seems unwilling to listen to my assessment of his poor fighting skills. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him."

"I don't need any help!" Miki snapped. "Especially from _him_. I've never even seen him _fight_. And honestly, how much strength cane someone who carries a sakabatou have? He briefly shot an apologetic look at the redhead.

Hiko-sama's bright eyes assessed Kenshin. "A... sakabatou?"

Kenshin closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. "Hiko-sama," he said softly, ignoring the reference to his sword, "Miki is right, that he is. He has no reason to think that I fight any better than he does. Why should he trust _my_ opinions?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Then why don't you show him, Kenshin?"

"Oro?"

"He could use a sparring partner other than myself. Someone whose moves he doesn't already know."

Kenshin shook his head. "Hiko-sama, I don't think that's a good idea, that I do not."

Miki sighed. "Let's just do it, rurouni. There's no talking my Shishou out of something once he's gotten an idea into his head."

Kenshin sighed, slowly standing. "Alright. But not long, please."

The old man didn't answer, watching Kenshin walk to Miki and stand facing him.

Kenshin could feel the man's eyes on them.

Miki seemed unconcerned, moving into an offensive position. Then, withing moments, he attacked Kenshin.

The redhead easily read the move and sidestepped it, watching to see how the boy recovered.

Miki shot a glare at him, and tried again. This time, Kenshin didn't even bother sidestepping, instead pulling his sheathed weapon up and using it defensively.

"Miki," Kenshin said softly, as the boy jumped back, "why are you doing this? You're holding back."

The boy's eyes widened. "What makes you...?"

"I can read it in your ki, Miki. You're better than this. Show me what you can do. You won't hurt me, so don't worry."

That last comment triggered Miki's anger, and his eyes flashed. "I won't hurt you? I can beat you easily, rurouni."

And he was moving. Kenshin had to admit, the boy's speed and control were impressive. Especially coming from one so young. But then again... if this boy really _was_ to become Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth, it shouldn't have been any surprise.

A thought struck Kenshin as he blocked Miki's blows. _If this boy really _was_ his shishou, then..._ The rurouni's eyes narrowed, fading from lavender to blue as a mischievous smile lit on his face, an expression he hadn't had since training with his shishou twenty years ago.

Before Miki knew what was happening, Kenshin was in the air, finally drawing his blade. "_Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu tsui sen!_"

The powerful attack flung the boy to the ground, and threw his katana a distance away.

Kenshin landed lightly nearby, and looked back at the youth.

Miki wasn't moving.

Kenshin knelt beside the boy, worry erasing the fun of possibly having knocked his shishou flat. "Miki, are you alright? Miki?" He sent an alarmed look at the old man. "Hiko-sama!"

"He's fine," the older man said lightly. "Although, I must say, I didn't expect you to use ryu tsui sen on him." The old man chuckled. "Maybe you dropped his cocky attitude down a little. He should know how to block that move by now."

There was a soft moan, and Kenshin turned his attention back to the boy. "Miki! Are you alright? I'm sorry, that I am. I didn't mean to hurt you!"

Miki's eyes finally fluttered open, and he moaned again, slowly sitting up. His eyes remained unfocused, but then it was as though the last few moments came rushing back to him, and he turned to stare in shock at Kenshin, eyes wide. "You... how did you... that was ryu tsui sen! You know Hiten Mitsurugi? How?"

He turned to stare at Hiko-sama, but the old man wasn't even paying any attention to them. He was too busy pouring himself a fresh cup of sake.

Kenshin sweatdropped as he realized he was going to have to explain this to Miki without Hiko-sama's help. The rurouni remained focused on the boy, but he carefully avoided looking Miki in the eye. "I should not have been so hard on you, that I should not. I could have seriously hurt you, and that would have been unforgivable. I am truly sorry."

Miki was just staring at him. Clearly this Kenshin, whoever he was, was highly skilled. What was with all of this humility? "I don't care about that," he said, brushing Kenshin's supporting hand away, and standing a bit unsteadily. "I'm fine. But you..." He glanced back at Hiko-sama. "Did Shishou train you, then? You act like you know this place. Were you his previous apprentice? The one who failed?"

"_Miki!"_ Hiko-sama's voice was sharp, and Kenshin saw a flash of anger in the old man's normally calm eyes.

"No, Miki," Kenshin said softly. "I was trained by a Hiko Seijuro, that I was. But it was not your shishou."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Just how old are you, then?"

Kenshin sighed. _How was it that every encounter inevitably led to his age? _"Thirty," he replied.

"Thirty! But Shishou said that _his_ shishou died over forty years ago! You're not old enough to have been trained by him!"

Kenshin blinked at the youth. _Not old _enough_? That was a first._

Miki looked from Kenshin to his shishou and back again. Then he shook his head, smirking suddenly. "Oh, I get it. This is some big set-up, right? Hiko-sama partially trained you and you took off on him, so neither of you wants to admit that you know each other, because then you'd have to admit that you both screwed up."

Kenshin said nothing, alarmed at how close the boy had come to his own personal truth.

Miki snorted, taking the silence as agreement. "That's so stupid. You two should just make up, so you can finish your training." He looked at Kenshin critically. I mean, you're kind of small for a master of Hiten Mitsurugi, but you're pretty good. I wouldn't mind training with you. As long as I get the cloak in the end."

"Miki," Hiko-sama muttered.

"You can have it," the redhead replied.

"_Kenshin,"_ the old man snapped. "Don't encourage him." He sent a sharp look at Miki. "Baka," he said, "I want you to go to town and buy some more rice and sake. You only got enough for you and I yesterday, and we have a guest now." Hiko-sama tossed him a small pouch of money. "Are you good to walk?"

Miki caugh the pouch, and nodded. "Fine." He walked over and picked up his katana, sheathing it. Then he sent Kenshin a serious look. "If I am right, though, you really should finish your training. No good shishou would hold a mistake like that against you."

"Miki!"

The boy shrugged off his shishou's warning tone, and began walking down the path.

Kenshin stared after him in stunned silence before saying, "I should go with him. He's injured, and shouldn't have to care that load alone."

"No," replied the old man, stopping Kenshin in his tracks. "That boy doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut, be he's no fool. He'd have told me if he was hurt too badly. He'll be fine. I think perhaps you should stay here... so we can talk."

* * *

_Author's Note: Look! I've finally updated this! Well, I can't feel too guilty. I did warn you that this story is for fun, so updates wouldn't be regular. On that note, sorry about the wait on _Out of Time_. Real life has been extra rough lately (no, I'm not trying to use that as an excuse!) and it has been hard to find the energy and the motivation to write anything at all. I hope to have an update on _Out of Time_ within a week or two. Please be patient. I'm trying, and I'd rather take longer and get a better chapter (and feel better) than rush it. Okay?_

_ On a lighter note (and I'm sure I'll be posting this notice in most of my fics at least once). I now post original fiction on FictionPress(dot)com. So far I only have one poem and one short story posted, but I'd love it if you'd check my stuff out! I have no real readership over there yet. (sniffle, sniffle) Only one review! (laughs) Okay, enough of the shameless plugging. If you'd like to check it out, though, go to my bio page here and click on the link at the top that says "homepage" and that will connect you to my FictionPress bio page. My penname is the same there (SiriusFan13). Why change a good thing, right?_

_ (laughs)_

_Anyway, thanks so much for reading, being understanding about the wait, and reviewing!_

_Dewa mata! _


	5. Of Samurai and Hitokiri

**In Due Time**

"You are an enigma, Himura Kenshin," the old man said softly.

"Oro?" Kenshin's expression was one of almost childlike innocence.

Hiko-sama chuckled, shaking his head. "That's exactly what I mean. You strike me as a quiet, gentle person. However, there is a great weight on your shoulders. So heavy that there is often a dangerous edge to your ki and a darkness in your eyes. You are... were a soldier perhaps?"

Kenshin closed his eyes and leaned back, the sun warming his face and making his hair glow like a sunset. He was the picture of angelic innocence.

"Hitokiri," he said softly, shattering the moment. His words were uncharacteristically sharp, cutting Hiko-sama like a knife. Kenshin's expression was unreadable.

"Hitokiri..." the old man whispered. "You used Hiten Mitsurugi to kill from the shadows? You abused your power." Hiko-sama's bright eyes were clouded with rage.

Kenshin had seen this look once before when he had asked his own shishou to allow him to join the revolution. It was a look of pain and disgust and anger. Only _his_ shishou's eyes had wounded Kenshin far worse with the touch of betrayal hidden withing them.

"Hiko-sama..."

"Why?"

"Hiko-sama?"

The old man held his hand up to silence Kenshin. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "According to the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi, I could turn my back on you for that. I could _kill_ you if I felt it necessary. Hitokiri deal in death. Their souls are forfeit." He paused, opening his eyes and looking at Kenshin. The fury was gone, replaced with confusion and sadness that was far worse. "But your ki is steady. You're no killer."

"No," Kenshin replied softly, running his hand along the hilt of his sword. "But I was... once. That is why I carry the sakabatou. To protect the weak without killing. To atone."

Hiko-sama snorted at the mention of atoning, but said nothing. They sat quietly for a long time, each lost in his own dark thoughts.

Finally Hiko-sama spoke. "I want to trust you, Kenshin." He sighed. "Miki does, and he's a damn good judge in character. But you were once hitokiri. And you are scarred."

The redhead blinked in surprise at Hiko-sama. "What does my scar have to do with anything?"

The old man suddenly looked tired, the lines in his face seeming deeper, as though this conversation were aging him. He took a long drink of sake directly from the jug, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let me tell you a story, and perhaps you'll understand..."

There is a village just at the base of this mountain. It is small, filled mostly with poor farmers. However, two years ago, there lived a strong, well-known family. The elder, Himura Kin was a samurai, known for his influence and ruthlessness. Himura Kin had two sons. The eldest, Masakazu, was training in swordsmanship with his father to serve the Shogunate. Masakazu was strong, proud, and almost as ruthless as his father. Together they were quite formidable and very hated. Their words and actions had led to the deaths of many men, and the loss of homes and property for many more."

"What of the brother?" asked Kenshin.

The older man smiled grimly, taking another drink. "Himura Miki was cut from a different sort of cloth. When he was very young, he suffered from an illness that had left him very weak, and that he had never fully recovered from. Because of this, Miki was pampered by his mother, but was otherwise ignored by his father and brother." Hiko-sama shook his head. "A blessing in disguise, really. Miki picked up few of his father and brother's traits."

Again, the old man paused and smiled softly. "I used to buy sake from a man in that village, and would see Miki every now and then. He was a good boy. I wouldn't call him exactly polite... but he was respectful, unlike the others." He snorted. "For instance, _he'd_ have never dreamed of trying to buy my training.

Kenshin just stared at him. "They didn't."

Hiko-sama nodded gravely. "Himura Kin once saw me deal with some unfriendly ronin. He insisted that I train his son, Masakazu. I declined. I think I may have been the first person he'd had to deal with who couldn't be bought." He shook his head. "Ironic, really. Had it even occurred to the baka to ask if I'd train Miki, I'd have done it for free."

"Even with his illness?"

The old man laughed shortly. "The illness had been over for years by then. The boy was very weak from it, yes. But he was also never given a chance to try. Some illnesses are worsened by treatment." He shook his head as though to clear it. "Anyway, to the point. At the base of this mountain is a forest, and it is a nesting ground for bandits and other dangerous sort. Because of this, villages in that area need to constantly be on the look out. As it so happens, a group of ronin attacked the village the day I had come for sake. Himura Kin and Masakazu fought bravely against the ronin. Both wound up dead. I wound up fighting a number of the ronin myself. Once things were under control, I had time to realize something odd. Kin and Masakazu were the only two deaths dealt by the ronin. Suspicious, I headed to the Himura home. I arrived in time to see Miki standing in the corner, covered in blood, trying to fend off a ronin with one of his father's swords." Hiko-sama sighed. "True strength there. His mother was behind him."

Kenshin's eyes were wide. "He managed to protect her?"

"He was protecting her body. It was her blood covering him. I took him on as my deshi after that. He had the strength that Masakazu lacked. Strength of will and heart. It was slow work to get his body to catch up."

"What does this have to do with me, Hiko-sama?"

The man's eyes darkened. "It was no coincidence that those ronin wound up at Miki's house. As I said, the Himuras had many enemies. Someone wanted them dead. I killed the ronin that Miki faced, but he told me that there had been two others who got away. Those two are a danger to my baka deshi. They attacked a samurai, and there is a witness left alive. They will be dead men if identified. If they're still alive, they won't let Miki live."

"But wouldn't Miki be able to..."

"Miki has blocked a number of those bad memories out. He can't remember any of their faces. He has a hard time remembering much of anything from that day. But he did tell me this. That one of the men... the one who seemed to be in charge, had a scar on his face, and called himself 'hitokiri.'"

* * *

_Author's note: Sorry the updates take too long, and sorry this chapter is so short... but at least I warned you not to expect regular updates for this one! I hope you liked the chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and please review!_


	6. Talk to Me

**In Due Time**

The men studied each other in wary silence for a long moment before Kenshin finally spoke. "Hiko-sama," he said softly. "Are you trying to say that you think _I_ am one of the ronin who killed Miki's family? Is that what you are saying?"

The old man's expression was serious "I've already said that you're no killer. At least, not by nature. Even one such as yourself could not disguise your ki that well from me. Hitokiri or no, you are more honorable a man than those ronin were. That is why I am willing to trust you. I'm simply stating that this is an increasingly coincidental state of affairs, Himura Kenshin. And I cannot help but wonder if there is a reason for it."

"Oro?" Kenshin's eyes were wide and surprised. "A reason? For my arrival here... now?"

The old man nodded grimly. "We'll have to see how this pans out. But I have a feeling that your appearance here is possibly more important than I originally thought..."

Kenshin was staring off into space, a worried look in his eyes. "You think that Miki's life is still in danger, don't you Hiko-sama? You are worried for his life..."

Hiko-sama bowed his grey head briefly. "I am." The warm concern in his dark eyes was evident. Clearly he cared deeply about his young deshi. "But I can't constantly watch over him. He'll never learn to be strong if I don't let him go off on his own occassionally..."

The redhead nodded, understanding. His own shishou had been the same. And Kenshin couldn't fault either of them for it. He'd learned too much from fighting his own battles. From occasionally making the mistake, taking the fall, or, as was often the case, the hit... But this situation wasn't quite the same. If those ronin were still out there, then Miki's life could be at risk...

"Someone should watch him," Kenshin said softly. "Strength is important, but it isn't worth that boy's life."

"I know." There was a flicker of hope in the old man's eyes. "That's where your timely arrival comes in. I have a request for you, Kenshin." He hesitated briefly. "Would you be willing to watch the boy for me... when I can't?"

Kenshin's lavender eyes were focused on the path Miki had taken into the woods, as though trying to watch over the boy even from this distance. Finally, without displacing his focus, he spoke. "But, Hiko-sama," he said softly, "you are the one who was afraid of changing things earlier. How is this any different?"

Hiko-sama grunted roughtly and looked away. "That is true... unless you were _meant_ to be involved..." His brow furrowed, deepening the lines in his face, making him look old and tired. "The coincidences are so great. A scarred hitokiri named for his brother? And I've been feeling dangerous ki nearby lately. Especially last night. You have no idea how grateful I was to have him return alive."

Kenshin just stared at him. "So you sent him out to the river for _water_ last night, knowing this?"

Hiko-sama appeared amused. "Of course not. I sent him to the well."

Kenshin's eyebrow twitched in mild irritation and he sweatdropped. "Well?" he asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "What well? No one ever told me there was a well. I always had to go to the river..."

He shook his head, trying to ignore Hiko-sama's little snicker at that, and shifting back to the original topic. "So, you think I was sent back in time to protect Miki?"

Hiko-sama sighed. "I don't know what I think anymore. I've never been a mystic, and I don't claim to understand what could pull a man through time. All I know is that I want this boy kept safe."

Kenshin smiled gently at these words. "I will do what I can, Hiko-sama," he said softly, trying to put the older man's mind at least somewhat at ease. "I make you no promises, but I will do what I can." He secret smile spread. "Anyway, I owe him that much."

The old man's eyes widened. "You... owe him...?"

The redhead nodded firmly. "Yes, Hiko-sama. I have reason to believe that you may be correct about these coincidences... especially after having heard Miki's story..." He looked away again, back toward the woods. Seeing three sad stones resting amongst a field of crosses in his mind's eye once more. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet. "During a run-in with bandits, my own life was saved by the man who was to become my shishou... Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth..."

* * *

_Author's note: Yes, I know this chapter was terribly short. Yes, I realize also that this chapter was hideously boring. I'd apologize, but it seems easier to just throw up a random reminder that this story was never intended to be any great piece of literature anyway. (heh... well, honestly, NONE of my writing was ever intended to be any great piece of literature, but that's beside the point...) So, anyway, that sort of thing may happen now and then. It's called me not putting as much time and effort into my "fun" filler stories as I do with my other works. My fault. Sorry. If it sucks, please tell me, and I'll try to make the next chapter suck less._

_Either way, thanks for reading. Please review!_

_Dewa mata! _


	7. Hidden Truths

**In Due Time**

Hiko-sama had been momentarily stunned into silence. After clearing his throat and shaking his head, he finally managed to choke out, "Your shishou... is the thirteenth Hiko Seijuro?"

Kenshin nodded. "And you are the twelfth, aren't you Hiko-sama?"

The old man stood, looking a bit agitated. "You know that doesn't mean he's Miki," Hiko-sama said softly, refusing to answer the question. "I've already had one deshi. If something were to happen to Miki, I could have another."

"But you wouldn't would you?"

The swordsman's head jerked up in surprise, his eyes widening.

Kenshin's expression didn't change. A small smile on his lips. Something knowing in his gentle lavender eyes. "You care about Miki," Kenshin said softly. "Or else you wouldn't ask my help in protecting him. He is your true deshi."

The old man's eyes softened a fraction, and he turned to look down the path that Kenshin had been watching moments earlier. "Yes. He's a good boy." He paused, finally admitting, "And I am growing old. Miki will probably be my last."

The redhead nodded. "Then he is my shishou," he said simply. "I'm not surprised, really. Shishou was the one who gave me the name 'Himura Kenshin.'"

Hiko-sama didn't answer for a long time, thoughtfully drinking his sake. Finally when he spoke, his voice was distant. Distracted. "I wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it," he murmured. "Complete the succession technique, I mean." He looked tired suddenly. "Miki's been thorugh a lot of death..."

"Kenshin nodded, understanding. "So because of this, you weren't sure if he could kill you?"

The old man sent him a sharp look. "You know of the succession technique? How? You don't wear the mantle..."

"I finished my training." Kenshin winced again at the thought of wearing that huge, white monstrosity. "I just refused the title... and the cloak..."

The old man looked surprised. "I didn't realize..." He cleared his throat, trying to block the image of Miki swiftly dying by this hitokiri's hand. Turning his thoughts to better days that would hopefully lie ahead for his young deshi. "So... he'll be alright, then?" he asked carefully. "He'll turn out okay?"

Kenshin coughed a little, trying to decide how to answer that. _How was an antisocial hermit "alright," anyway?_ "He's... different," the redhead said thoughtfully. "Crude. Kind of cold. Very vindictive..." Kenshin's brow furrowed. "But he's still a good person. A good shishou. As I said, he saved my life as a child. Then raised me himself. He was like a father to me." His smile was rueful. "A strict, harsh father... but concerned." Kenshin stopped, considering. For the first time in ages, thinking of his shishou's good points rather than obsessing over his bad ones. "He's the best swordsman I've ever known." Another pause. "And although he seems to like being an arrogant jerk, he's still a caring person."

Hiko-sama smiled, apparently comforted by Kenshin's description. Miki was not going to become like his father. Some of his traits, maybe. But he would retain his own caring center. That was enough. "Sounds like you two were close."

Kenshin winced. "I suppose we were in a way... but then he and I had a fight. A big one. We went our separate ways for over a decade. When I returned, I honestly wasn't sure he'd take me back."

"But he did..."

The redhead nodded. "Yes. As I said, he's harsh, but he's a good shishou."

Hiko-sama's expression was a little sad. "It must have been hard on you to complete the succession technique."

Kenshin blinked uncomprehendingly at Hiko-sama. "Oro?"

The old man bowed his head briefly, sitting back down beside the rurouni. He clarified himself. "To have killed him..." His voice was quiet and firm, but his expression betrayed his concern. This was something that had been weighing on his mind since their conversation had begun... the death of his deshi...

"I didn't kill him," the rurouni replied, suddenly understanding. Realizing that in a way, the conversation had come full circle. "My sakabatou... A pin loosened in the hilt. He survived." He smiled grimly. "He almost died, anyway, though. I was lucky..."

The older swordsman raised one silver eyebrow. "You _are_ close, then. That doesn't happen often between deshi and shishou."

"Hiko-sama?"

The old man had an amused and somewhat relieved expression on his face. "You didn't say that _Miki_ was lucky to have survived. You said that _you_ were lucky. You may bristle when you speak of him, but your own words betray your heart."

The redhead's face bore the expression of someone who was just realizing something for the first time. "I _did_ feel lucky. Grateful." His voice dropped. "I didn't want him to die. Especially not by my own blade."

Hiko-sama smiled at Kenshin's words. "It's good to know that Miki will wind up with such a good deshi."

"His baka deshi..."

Hiko-sama laughed, not missing Kenshin's dark, slightly hurt look. He ignored the brief, sharp glare that the redhead shot in his direction. "Don't take that to heart. We are all baka deshi at some point. It's just a name that has been passed down with the title of 'Hiko Seijuro.' Miki must have picked it up from me, and I got it from _my_ shishou." He chuckled. "You'll probably wind up using it one day as well."

Kenshin winced a little, not wanting to have to tell the old man that Hiten Mitsurugi would die with Miki and himself. He looked toward the woods once again.

Hiko-sama didn't miss this. "Worried about him?" he asked.

Kenshin sighed. His shishou would _hate_ the idea of Kenshin worrying about him. Would even more strongly oppose the notion of _Kenshin_ of all people wanting to protect him. Even so, Kenshin couldn't help but worry about the proud, caring boy who had aided him. And therefore, also feeling concern for his reclusive shishou who was perhaps not quite as cold as he often seemed.

"I would like to follow him, Hiko-sama," Kenshin said softly. "There's probably nothing wrong, but I would feel better keeping an eye on him. Especially with this new information of yours. About the strange ki in the area last night..."

Hiko-sama tipped his sake cup in Kenshin's direction. "Then do as you will. I certainly won't stop you."

The rurouni stood and bowed briefly to him. "Thank you, Hiko-sama."

"No," the swordsman replied. "Thank you, Kenshin. It's nice to know that my deshi will become a good man."

Kenshin just smiled and took his leave, walking the path Miki had taken an hour earlier. The same path he had taken, _would_ take in another time with his own shishou from a mound of graves to this very hut...

Hiko-sama watched him disappear into the shadows. "And it's a comfort to know that he's in good hands... That even after my death he will still have someone who cares about him. That he won't have to be alone..."

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful responses! I was thrilled to see that no one seemed to dislike the last chapter as much as I did. I hope this chapter continues to please. And it's nice to know that for some reason you like this silly little filler story._

_Thanks again!_

_Dewa mata! _


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